


I would rather be the ghost that annoys you

by Noducksinpond



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: F/M, Quick drabble, Spoilers until the end of A Dance with Dragons, and a tad bit of denial, otp feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-09
Updated: 2014-06-09
Packaged: 2018-02-04 00:57:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1761203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Noducksinpond/pseuds/Noducksinpond
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"That´s when he hears it, the snow cracks under someone´s feet, it gets pressed together. He wonders, if they have come to make sure he is dead, to make sure they´ve finished the task. It means he has moments left, moments until the pain he feels will end. It will be better that way." Spoilers for Jon´s chapters of A Dance with Dragons, additional scene to the last chapter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I would rather be the ghost that annoys you

**Author's Note:**

> I´m in general not too fond of writing or reading A Song of Ice and Fire fanfiction, but this idea has been sitting in my head practically since I slammed A Dance with Dragons shut in frustration after reading Jon´s last chapter, and now almost a year later and in light of the Battle of the Wall episode in the show here we go. Also I´m allowed to imagine slightly happier things that what GRRM gives us right?

It is deadly silent in the yard now, they´ve all left. His face is pressed against the snow; he is too weak to move, too weak to fight against the loss of blood, to fight against anything. So he enjoys his quiet moments, the moments before he will meet his father and Robb again, in the halls of the old gods if there was a life after this one. He hoped there was, he hated the thought of just sinking into darkness, even though it would relieve him of the pain he feels.

That´s when he hears it, the snow cracks under someone´s feet, it gets pressed together. He wonders, if they have come to make sure he is dead, to make sure they´ve finished the task. It means he has moments left, moments until the pain he feels will end. It will be better that way.

“Why are you lying here Jon Snow?” He recognises the voice immediately, but knows it can´t be her. It can´t possibly be Ygritte, because Ygritte is dead, and her body burned to prevent her from rising again. Her ashes are long gone too. “Did you want to freeze your balls off?” she continues, and sits down in the snow in front of him. Her hands gently brush against his face, and are then lifting his head up from the snow, and he knows it´s her. He doesn´t care if it is a trick, his head plays on him. Because when she lifts his head from the snow, he can see her, see the fiery red hair, and the crooked smile on her lips, a smile that doesn´t quite reach her eyes. Maybe she knows he´s dying too. He imagines she does.

“Ygritte,” he barely has the strength to say her name, yet he does, feels like he has to. Because she is sitting there in front of him, she is not real, but she is sitting there, and it makes him realise just how much he has missed her. “I´ve missed you.”

“You might have to miss me for a bit more,” Ygritte answers him, one hand brushing through his hair and it is so familiar that it makes him miss the days with the wildlings, the days he spent with her. Before he had to return to Castle Black. “I don´t think it´s your turn to meet your gods yet.” She leant down and gently pressed her lips against his, it was a quick chaste kiss, for the sake of reassuring him more than anything else, and when she drew away from him again, he couldn´t help the small smile on his face. “I´ll be disappointed if you don´t ever see those castles though,” she added afterwards. He had said, she would see a hundred castles, maybe he should see them for her, and remember every single one in great detail, so when his time came he could describe them for her, if there was a life after this one.

“I will,” Jon promised her, before he felt a sharp pain shoot down his spine, and he groaned loudly as he came back to reality, but he was no longer in the yard, and no snow surrounded him.

“Be quiet Lord Snow,” a man, who´s voice he didn´t recognise, but he had to be a ranger or a steward, hissed at him. Jon was still blinking, disorientated but all that met his eyes was a familiar dimly light. “Or they might come back and kill you proper.”


End file.
